Lust and Greed
by Gary Oak The Pidgeon
Summary: AU where dwarves are evil and super power hungry. One sided Bilbo/Thorin. Thorin is a monster who will get whatever he wants, and he wants something from the hobbit. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_Bilbo Baggins, chosen consort of Thorin Oakenshield,_ thought Bilbo with contempt. It was a title he never wanted, a title none of the hobbits had wanted, but they'd been glad to throw him out of the Shire to save their own lives.

"It'll be a simple treaty," one of the dwarves had said. "Just give us one of your kin to be taken as the consort of our king. If you refuse then we will have all of you and your land destroyed."

"Why must you take a hobbit?" one of them had yelled, stamping their hairy feet. "Can you not take an elf or a human?"

Bilbo had cringed when he'd heard that. The dwarves had sent most of the elves away from Middle-Earth, save the small number that they deemed as trustworthy, though many were under supervision from dwarves. Their population had increased over the years, and so had their wealth, as if the mountain would never stop releasing treasures. Their power had also grown, and they had army after army after army. The dragon Smaug had tried to attack years earlier and had been killed in seconds; Bilbo himself was allowed to go see the head of the beast if he asked, and the dwarves would be absolutely eager to show him. The orcs had raged war against them, but in the end the dwarves had murdered them all, along with the wargs. They took pride in the eradication of the species, and at first everyone had been happy when it was now much safer to travel around Middle-Earth, but soon the dwarves looked to find even more power. The entire White Council of wizards had sided with them, though if it was unknown if they'd done so out of consent or by pure fear.

They'd taken over entire lands in Middle-Earth, but only shortly before they'd never even gotten near the Shire. The hobbits thought that the dwarves simply thought that they weren't messing with hobbits because of how peaceful they were-most couldn't even hold a sword properly, and even if they could they were unlikely to give you more than a small scratch with it. They'd been wrong, and it had cost them their freedom.

"It'll be exactly like when we weren't here," one of the dwarves had said. "We simply wish for you to send us a share of your crops, and in return we will give you some of our treasure."

The hobbits had said yes, though Bilbo was sure they'd get little. Still, what use would it be? They'd given him away because he'd been a bachelor with no romantic prospects, had been quite strange for a hobbit (he'd often been the talk of the town gossips), and had money. Yes, all the hobbits wanted a fair share of his things, and what better way to get them then to get rid of him? Many would've wanted the great wealth in Erebor, but they wouldn't leave the Shire for it. They'd forced him to go, deciding they'd much rather have the small wealth he had then to get the great amount in Erebor.

When Thorin had seen him, he had analyzed him, poking and prodding him as if we were an object, though he suspected that he likely was. He'd made comments on his appearance, and though they were positive, he hadn't been cheered up by them. He'd wanted to tell the dwarf to stop, but he couldn't.

At first he'd wondered why he'd wanted a hobbit as a consort, but after their first night together, a night where he was almost completely alone with him, he realized why. Thorin was almost a foot taller than him, and his voice was much louder. Bilbo was an object that could be passed around, and though he existed, he was of little importance; he now existed only to boost Thorin.

The other dwarves had teased him, and he knew quite well that he was a joke among them, and Thorin even would play along with the jokes.

Bilbo Baggins was almost nothing, though he sometimes wished he could just be nothing. If he weren't constantly next to Thorin, then he'd sneak into the mines and fade into the darkness, and go to the deepest, darkest, and most secluded spot. Once he got there, he doubted that he'd ever leave.

Thorin had tried to woo him, but it had failed. He'd never been one to be called a romantic, and though the dwarf had tried, it did nothing for Bilbo. Instead, it made him even more numb.

"Bilbo," he'd whispered to him one night. "What can I do to make you love me?"

He'd said nothing, because there was nothing he could do.

He'd tried pleasuring him, and for once acted as though he'd cared about him, but Bilbo felt nothing of it. Thorin had tried harder, but he was still numb and empty.

**Author's Note:** I'm not making this a one-shot, but I can't guarantee when I'll update again. I don't know where I'm going with this story, but I will update as soon as I can if the story is popular.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'll give you every piece of riches that you could ever desire," Thorin had said. "Just ask and I'd be happy to give it to you. Gold, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires. . ."

Bilbo had seen how Thorin looked at those jewels-with pure greed. He'd already given so many to Bilbo to win him over, but he always refused them. What would he ever need them for? He was a modest hobbit whose interests lied in simpler things such as books and tea. Thorin had tried convincing him otherwise-"But those jewels look stunning on you!" but Bilbo hadn't listened. He was confident of himself, but not vein. There was no use he had for jewels, and there never would be, despite Thorin's hopes.

* * *

His hands ran across his back, and Bilbo felt himself shiver. He saw the king smile, the flame of lust sparking in his eyes. Bilbo had never known what love truly looked like-the most he saw from other hobbits including his own mother and father was a kiss on the cheek or holding hands, and only then it was for a short time. He'd given up all prospects of love before, never finding one person to be satisfied with, and now he had to discover the truth on his own. The only thing he was sure of was that this wasn't love.

"Your hair," Thorin said, who had begun running his hand through his orange curls, "I love your hair." The words were low, his voice as soft as Bilbo's pillows had been at his home in Bag End. "I got the finest consort, didn't I?" Thorin asked himself. Bilbo knew it would be wrong to answer the prince's question.

He hadn't known what to expect when he'd been taken to the prince, but he had seemed visually appealing enough. Bilbo however didn't care for it, he was still angered that he was in this situation. Why him? What did the other hobbits hold against him?

_My wealth, my Took blood,_ he thought. _My damned Took blood._

He said nothing to Thorin whenever he was asked questions.

"Why do you not speak? You are allowed to."

Bilbo remained in silence. "What have I done to anger you?"

_Taken me from my people and the place that I always called my home._ The words never left his lips, but they formed a great anger, one that he felt would never stop burning.

* * *

His tongue explored his mouth, and Bilbo could do nothing to stop it.

"Are you satisfied yet?" asked Thorin.

Bilbo didn't know how he could ever be. Thorin was causing him to sweat, and he was smelling worse by the second. Along the walls hung orc heads, one of the things he didn't want to be seeing when he was trying to discover what love was. It broke the mood for Bilbo whenever he turned his eyes up and saw Azog.

"What can I do to make you happy?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo said nothing. He felt as though he'd left his voice back at the Shire, where it wondered alone trying to find him, but never would.

"Why do you not like treasure?"

"Because-" Bilbo began.

Thorin cut him off. "Why?" His voice was anxious. He needed to find a way to keep his pet happy so that he could keep treating it as less than a dwarf.

_Because I am a piece of it and you see me as such. I have lost everything and become as shiny as gold, but though I glitter, I am not worth it._

"I never desired it and I never will." was all Bilbo replied with.

"Will you ever change?"

"No."

"I'll make you. You'll be begging me for more and I'll be so happy to give it to you."

He took him to a private spot in the royal wing, to a spot filled with piles of gold and jewels. He reached out and touched it, and Bilbo knew that he was a dragon in his own way. He could not breathe fire, but perhaps he could learn.

Maybe this was what love was."

Thorin put a necklace around Bilbo's neck of pure gold with diamond pieces on it, then stuffed his hands with golden coins that fell out of his hands and spilled onto the floor, pooling around his feet. He placed a golden crown adorned with brightly colored gems of every kind on his head, but he still did not do anything but blink and wait for him to stop.

"Do you like it yet?"

"No."

"Do you not have this thing in that place you come from?"

_You do not even know the name of it. _thought Bilbo. _ You do not really care for me, though you try to act as though you do. I can read you like a book, and I can say this with confidence, as I've read quite a few._

Eventually, Thorin gave up, muttering, "Another time," under his breath, then proceeded to take it off. Though Bilbo was dressed in royal garments, he felt as though he were dressed in rags. Once he was free of the treasure, he simply stared blankly into Thorin's eyes, waiting for whatever came next.

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I really wanted to do some drabbles showing the greed of dwarves. I'll try to update soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo could hear the spirit of a long dead dragon whispering to him, the dragon's voice soft as silk. Whenever he closed his eyes, even for a quick second, he could see the white dragon, see the loss of his former glory. The dragon was twenty times the size of himself, but he could do him no physical harm. The dragon told him many things, things Bilbo never wished to know, but had no way to stop him.  
"I used to be red," the dragon said, his mouth opening to reveal teeth whiter than snow, the ends as sharp as any sword. There was no distinction of one type of tooth from the other like with hobbits, no, all teeth were canine teeth. Bilbo could never imagine the dragon as red, to him always being the giant white spirit who for some reason clung to him and him alone.  
Perhaps the color had broken away from him in shards, scattering onto the floor when he died, as if though it were blood. Or it could have faded away, the bright and fearful red no longer in need of the dragon, a mere shell of its former self with no way to ever recover.  
Bilbo could no longer pinpoint an exact day when the dragon had first came to him. It was as simple as one day the dragon would whisper to him, and the next he would appear, showing his strong and regal, yet dead, self.  
His voice was weak, and Bilbo could tell it had once been stronger, another sign to his death.  
According to Thorin, multiple dwarves had plunged knives into his bare spot above the left breast. He left off no gory details, fully describing the ripping of the dragon's skin and what the inside had looked like, not bothering to stop even when he saw Bilbo cringe at Thorin's description of the dragon's ruptured and bleeding body parts. Though to some the task would seem impossible, Bilbo never doubted it. He didn't have to ask the dragon if it were true, as their was always an invisible, incredibly thick wall of shame that surrounded him. Whenever Bilbo got near that wall, he was pulled into it and swallowed by it as well. He used to be capable of freeing himself from that wall, but soon pieces of it stuck to him, clinging onto him as well. It built around him, making his own wall that he could do nothing to remove himself from. It seemed he and the dragon were more alike than either could have ever guessed.  
Bilbo and the dragon formed a friendship as some would call it, perhaps made by the two or by the walls of shame that pulled and held them together.  
The dragon said his name was Smaug, and he used to be feared by all. Now, he was a legend, but not for ways that he wished. Smaug was a laughingstock among dwarves, who years later would still belittle and mock him every chance that they could.  
"I am Bilbo Baggins," replied Bilbo. "I used to believe that I belonged in the Shire, but it felt that I didn't belong there and kicked me out. Now I believe that I belong nowhere."  
Sometimes neither would discuss issues they were dealing with, instead making polite conversation, though it was rather hard. Bilbo had no interest in stealing treasure, he was sick of the damned stuff, or in burning down villages without fearing the consequences. In turn, Smaug cared little for peaceful things like smoking pipes, preparing a kettle of tea, and reading books. And yet somehow they remained friends despite their differences, as impossible as it seemed.  
Smaug was Bilbo's anchor to who he was. Sometimes he did feel like finally giving into Thorin, letting him shower him in treasure and pretend that he wasn't Thorin's glorified sex object. It seemed those times were coming to Bilbo more and more, but the dragon's words, no matter what he said, held him together, gluing back the cracks that sought to rip the very parts of himself apart. The dragon could've said that he despised Bilbo's very existence, that he was lower than scum to him, but he would still listen. If Smaug hated him, then he hated Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit with a name and a past.  
Smaug whispered to him all the time: When Bilbo was alone, with others, exploring Erebor. He was always, and thankfully, never alone with Thorin, the dragon invisible and yet surely existent.  
Bilbo wished he could give just one piece of gold to Smaug, a symbol of unity between the two. It just couldn't be denied that though there were many ways that the two were different, they were also quite alike.  
He knew that if things had been different that they never would've been friends, and it'd be unlikely that they'd ever relate to one another. It was also unlikely that they'd even meet. Bilbo would have been free to remain in the Shire, and Smaug would have happily lived amongst his gold, burning alive any creature that he saw as being even the slightest fraction of a threat to him. Bilbo knew that that scenario would have been better for both of them, no matter how many dwarves Smaug killed to get the treasures. For dwarves, Bilbo could no longer spare even an ounce of pity, and he could not feel bad for it, even iffor some reason he were to try.


End file.
